A Warlord's Prize: A Medieval Highland Romance (Highlander's Honor Book 3) Read online

  If there were water nearby, she could fill her water skin, and bring the mare so that she could paw at the water and distract her from whatever had set her on edge.

  Cat pulled a long knife from the saddle and held it tightly as she walked away from the horse and stepped into the trees. There was water nearby, she could hear it, but she was on edge as well. Danger lurked everywhere, even in the woods. If something happened to her, there would be no one to save her—no one to even know where she had gone.

  She swallowed thickly and pushed her cloak back so it would not hinder her if she needed to move quickly.

  The grass and underbrush near the road was crushed and broken, and the smell of the sap and crushed greenery filled her nostrils, but there was something else, too. Something she couldn’t place. She stepped carefully through the broken ferns, her eyes on the ground as the trees thinned.

  Here and there, the leaves of the bushes and smaller trees were spattered with something dark… She reached out to touch it, and then gasped as she noticed the flattened grass was smeared with the same darkness. She bent down and gagged as she recognized the familiar smell of blood; coppery and sharp in her nostrils.

  With her heart hammering in her chest, Cat followed the trail of trampled grass. Noticing hoofprints in the soft ground and the mark of heavy boots of men on foot.

  The trees thinned and she could see the pale light of a clearing ahead. She took a deep breath and looked back over her shoulder to where her horse stood, shivering beside the tree she had been tied to. “I’ll be back,” she said softly.

  Rose whickered nervously, and Cat smiled before pushing aside the branches that blocked her path. She stepped into the clearing with her knife held out in front of her, but as she blinked in the waning sunlight, she noticed shapes in the grass. Dark bundles, and the hum of insects.

  Her hand flew to her mouth as she realized that the dark shapes were bodies strewn across the open space. The men had been slaughtered. Blood had soaked into the ground beneath their corpses, and fat black flies traced lazy shapes in the air above their motionless forms.

  “Lachlann…”

  She ran to the closest body, but the hair and beard of the dead man were dark. It wasn’t him. She ran to each of the bodies, desperately checking for her husband’s face. A sob threatened to choke her as she came to the last man. His fair hair was stained with blood and she fell to her knees in the grass and pressed her hands to the dead man’s shoulders to turn him over. She paused as her palms touched the rough fabric of the man’s tunic.

  What if it was him…

  What would happen to her? Would she be sent back to her father?

  What would she do without Lachlann…

  She closed her eyes and pushed the man over. She couldn’t look at him at first, but then she forced herself to open her eyes. Her wretched sob turned into a cry of relief as she saw the man’s face.

  It wasn’t him.

  Cat fell back on the grass and scrambled back, away from the body. It wasn’t him.

  She hadn’t known until that moment just how much the husband she had hated so much meant to her. He had changed...

  But that wasn’t true. He hadn’t changed.

  She was the one who had changed.

  Cat sat in the grass and tried to focus on what had happened—tried to piece together the carnage in front of her. The hoofprints in the mud, the half-butchered deer carcass—everything was wrong.

  The light in the clearing fogged and Cat blinked quickly to chase away the tears that had leapt, unexpectedly, to her eyes.

  These were not Lachlann’s men. They were close enough to Narris that the men should have been loyal to the Mackays, but their colors were wrong, she noticed that first. Lachlann’s men were not as rough as these brutes.

  But who were they? And who had killed them...

  She pushed herself to her feet and examined the body of the fair-haired man once more. This time without any fear that it might be her husband. An empty scabbard on the dead man’s hip meant that he had not been unarmed when they were attacked.

  The cooking fire had been scattered, but when Cat bent to place her hand in the ashes, they were still warm to the touch.

  Whoever had done this could not have gone far, and with night fast approaching she would stumble upon them soon enough. Rose whinnied from the road and Cat swallowed thickly and ran back through the clearing toward her frightened mount.

  “Come now,” she said soothingly. “Hold still and we’ll be away.”

  She slipped her knife back into its sheath, hidden beneath the edge of the saddle, and set her foot into the stirrup. She was rattled by the discovery she had made in the clearing. She half-wondered if she should ride back to Narris, but she had come too far to make it back before nightfall.

  “We have no choice but to go on,” she said to the mare as she swung up into the saddle. With any luck, she would be able to find somewhere safe to light a fire and curl up in her cloak until sunrise.

  She gripped the reins firmly and pressed her heels into Rose’s flanks and urged her forward. The skittish mare tossed her head, but finally complied.

  Cat tried to shake off her nervousness, but every sound in the trees put her more on edge. She pushed Rose to go faster and the mare stretched out her neck and lengthened her stride.

  The forest seemed to go on forever, and even though she rode hard, the darkness grew faster than she could have expected. With tears of desperation stinging her eyes, she slowed the mare to a walk and squinted into the dark trees. She could not stop on the road, the risk of being alone was great enough as it was, and there was no way to know who else might use this road. The men who had murdered the warriors in the clearing could not have been far away, and that thought terrified her.

  Brigands. Thieves. Murderers…

  Cat had left Narris full of bravery and daring, but that bravado had long since departed, leaving paranoia in its place.

  “It’s too late tae go back now,” she whispered.

  She dismounted and pulled Rose away from the road and into the trees. She could hear a stream close by, and was reassured by the sound of rushing water. She led the mare through the trees, with the intention of allowing her to drink her fill before settling down for the night against the trunk of a tree.

  But as she walked, she was aware of other things in the woods. No birdsong. No flutter of wings overhead. The noise of breaking branches underfoot echoed sharply through the trees and made her cringe with every snap. The stream was close, and Rose whickered softly as she scented the water. Her ears twitched forward, and the mare nudged Cat eagerly.

  “Hush now,” Cat admonished her with a smile. “There’s no rush—”

  She dropped the reins and allowed the mare to walk on ahead through the trees toward the rushing water. Rose rushed forward, stepped into the water without pause, and lowered her head to drink from the stream.

  Cat sighed heavily and sank down onto the grass.

  The worry and fear that she had tried to ignore welled up inside her and tears pricked at her eyelashes before she furiously wiped them away.

  A horse’s whinny echoed through the trees and Cat thought her heart had stopped beating. The mare’s head came up, and she whinnied in response.

  “No,” Cat whispered. She scrambled forward and tried to grab the trailing reins, but the mare had already crossed the stream. “No, ye cannae—”

  A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and Cat choked on a scream.

  “What’re y’doin’ out here, Lass?” a rough voice demanded.

  Cat struggled against the man’s grip as he hauled her to her feet. “Let me go!”

  “Now why would I be doin’ that?” the man chuckled. She fought against his hold on her, but his hands were like iron as he dragged her through the woods. She screamed and clawed at him, but all he did was laugh at her efforts.

  He pulled her through the trees into a small clearing and finally released his grip on her arm. Cat fell t
o the grass and kicked away from her captor. She slid backwards on the grass while the man laughed loudly.

  “Look what I caught,” he crowed. “A wee spy in the woods. What type of bird d’ye think it is?”

  “Maybe she’ll sing for us,” someone called out.

  Cat glared around the clearing and wiped away the furious tears that stung her eyes. Three cooking fires burned strongly in the night, and the smell of cooking meat made Cat’s stomach rumble.

  “Dinnae think that you can touch me,” she snarled.

  “I dinnae think ye found a bird,” another man called out.

  “Aye, more like a she-wolf,” her captor chuckled. “Watch yer teeth, Lass.”

  A man emerged from the trees, leading her mare by her halter. “Ye cannae keep me here,” she cried. “I am traveling on the laird’s business. They are expecting me in Argyll—”

  “To Argyll?” her captor said with an air of surprise. “D’ye hear that, Lads? She’s expected by Nathan McArthur.”

  Laughter echoed in the trees and Cat’s cheeks burned with anger.

  Another man approached and laid his hand on her captor’s shoulder. “Shut yer mouth,” he said quietly.

  The big man chuckled and turned away, and Cat staggered to her feet. “Give me back my horse,” she choked out. “I’ll be on my way south.”

  “Ye’ll not be goin’ anywhere,” the man said.

  Cat’s mouth went dry, and in a moment of panic she turned to run back into the trees to escape the men, but she had taken no more than a few steps before strong arms encircled her waist and lifted her off the ground.

  She let out a thin scream as she was pulled against a broad chest covered in hard leather armor. “Let me go!”

  “And why would I do that?” the man whispered in her ear.

  She knew that voice and her heart lurched in her chest in response.

  In an instant, all of Cat’s anger fled and she squirmed in the man’s arms. “Lachlann? Lachlann you bastard!”

  The sound of her husband’s chuckle filled her ears and Cat twisted against his grip, turning in his arms to face him. “How dare you allow your men to treat me in such a manner!” She struck his chest with her fist and he laughed as he kissed her hard enough to take her breath away.

  “How dare you defy my orders,” he said softly. “I left ye in good hands.”

  “Ye left me with women and old men to wait… I couldnae do it. I couldnae sit there and wait for news like…”

  Lachlann smiled briefly. “Like a proper wife?”

  He was teasing her now and she squirmed in his grasp once more. “If ye wanted a proper wife, y’should have married someone else. I couldnae stay—I couldnae abandon Morag.”

  Lachlann placed her gently on the ground and smoothed her wild hair away from her face. “Ye’re a brave lass,” he said. “I’ll send ye back tae Narris in the morning. McAlister will take ye.”

  Cat pushed her husband away and glared at him. “I will not.”

  “Ye cannae think tae come—”

  Can pushed against Lachlann’s chest again. “I have already come this far,” she raged, and then a thought struck her. “Was it you who slaughtered those men along the road?”

  Lachlann frowned but then nodded. “Aye. They were Manus’ men, bearing south tae join his ranks.”

  Cat pressed her lips into a thin line.

  “Did ye find them?”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “I thought— I thought it was you, dead in the grass.”

  Lachlann’s smile was solemn. “I hope y’didnae mourn my passin’ for too long.”

  “No,” she whispered and then she looked up into his eyes. “They deserved death for standing with Manus.”

  “Aye.” He held out his hands to her. “Will ye leave yer anger behind, Lass?”

  Cat narrowed her eyes at him. “Will ye send me back tae Narris? I willnae go, and yer man McAlister will be sorry if he tries…” She hoped that her threat sounded sincere. If she was forced to return to Narris, she had every intention of using her knife on the men who would attempt it.

  Lachlann shook his head and chuckled. “My little Cat, so fierce and brave. How could I send you away?” Before she could argue, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. “I am glad tae see ye well. I wouldnae forgive myself if anythin’ were tae happen—”

  “I should be grateful that you saw to ridding the road of those bastards,” she said ruefully.

  Lachlann’s expression was pained. “Dinnae make me think of what might have happened tae ye if they’d found ye.”

  Cat smiled up at him. “They would have found my knife in their bellies,” she replied sweetly.

  Lachlann chuckled and bent his head to kiss her again. Cat wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. She would have ridden any distance and gone through any number of dangers to be in his arms, and even the horror of what she had seen in the clearing began to fade from her mind.

  A dramatically loud cough interrupted their reunion and Lachlann looked up and over her shoulder with annoyance in his eyes.

  Graham Eliott stood uncomfortably nearby, his hands upon his wide hips as he looked down at the ground. “Will we be takin’ yer wife back tae Narris?” he asked.

  Cat swallowed hard, he had promised her—

  “No,” Lachlann replied sharply. “She’ll be comin’ on south wi’us.”

  Eliott stared at him incredulously. “Are’ye serious? But we’re goin’—”

  Cat stepped out of Lachlann’s arms and marched up to the taller man. “My sister is Manus’ prisoner,” she snapped as she stabbed her finger into Eliott’s leather-armored chest. “I’ll not see her forgotten and left tae rot in that bastard’s hands.”

  The big man raised his hands defensively and took a step back. “Save me from your wife, Mackay,” he pleaded as the other men in Lachlann’s party laughed heartily at the angry expression on her face and Eliott’s obvious nervousness.

  Lachlann’s hand was gentle on her shoulder, but Cat’s anger simmered in her belly. She would not be shoved aside so the menfolk could do as they pleased. She did not trust them to see Morag to safety. She would be an afterthought to them, and Cat would not allow such a thing to happen.

  “Come now, Mackenzie and his brother have brought down a fine stag. Your mare is well looked after and ye can sit a while and fill yer belly.” He squeezed her shoulder and Cat allowed him to pull her into his side.

  Cat glared at Eliott and then sighed heavily as the scent of roasting meat reached her nostrils. She was cold and tired, and her stomach growled in anticipation of a meal that did not consist of apples and dried meat. She had not been prepared for the journey, but she would never admit it. “Aye, I suppose I could eat.”

  Lachlann’s arm tightened around her shoulders and she allowed him to lead her toward the cooking fire where she could see meat turning on a makeshift spit. As much as she had relished her small taste of rebellious freedom, she was safe with Lachlann and his men. The corpses in the clearing had served as a chilling reminder that she was not safe on her own, and for all her brave words, she had not really thought of the danger she had put herself in.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  It was not until late in the night, when the men were snoring against tree trunks and the first watch had disappeared into the trees that Cat was finally able to be alone with her husband. They were part of a war band, his men were restless and eager to reach their destination, and she could feel the tension in every conversation and preparation that was being made. The men were heavily armed, but they had brought very few supplies… they would travel quickly, and she knew that there would be some resentment to her joining the party.

  She had unrolled her sleeping furs at the roots of a thick oak tree, protected from the wind but still close enough to the glow of the fire to keep animals at bay. “I promise I willnae slow y’down,” she said quietly as Lachlann
sank down beside her. “Rose is fleeter of foot than I expected…”

  “Aye, you escaped notice when leaving Narris,” he chuckled. “I was a fool to believe that ye’d stay where I commanded.”

  Cat smiled and pushed at him playfully. “Didnae my father warn ye about that?”

  “Aye, and so did my mother.”

  Cat grimaced at the mention of Ginny Mackay. The woman was wild and dangerous, and Cat was almost afraid of her—which was probably just the way Ginny Mackay liked it.

  “But we willnae be tellin’ them about yer disobedience,” he said with a wink.

  “Aye, whatever will they think if Lachlann Mackay cannot keep his wife under control.”

  He laughed and the sound echoed in the trees, making Cat flush with pleasure. She loved making him laugh. It was a rare sound, and being the architect of such an outburst was a small point of pride. “They’ll think I’ve found the perfect woman for me,” he said. “I couldnae imagine being husband to any other woman.”

  The sentiment was sweet, and meant kindly, but his words stabbed into Cat’s stomach. Morag was meant to be his bride—would he have ignored her or treated her poorly for being who she was?

  He leaned over to kiss her, and Cat resisted for only a moment before a familiar heat flared in her belly and her mouth opened under his. Her arms came up around his neck as he pulled her into his lap, and Cat sat astride him. She could feel the press of his cock against her and she moaned against his lips.

  “Ye’re goin’ tae be the death of me, woman,” he murmured as he pulled his mouth away from hers and pressed a hot kiss against the hollow of her throat.

  “I cannae have ye growin’ tired of me,” she replied with a gasp as his hands came up to cup her breasts through her woollen dress.

  “No chance of that,” he growled.

  Cat knew she should have looked around to make certain that the men were not watching, but at that moment she did not care. They knew better than to spy on their leader and his wife. Lachlann would take off their heads if he caught them.

  She pulled the hem of her dress up to her waist, removing one of the barriers between them, and she sighed to feel the heat of his cock throbbing for her through the roughness of his tartan. She rose up slightly on her knees to pull the offending wool aside and smothered her moan of need in his neck as she felt the head of his cock press against her slick folds.